


Coffee & Donuts

by daddychilton



Category: Halt and Catch Fire
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-26
Updated: 2014-06-26
Packaged: 2018-02-06 06:17:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1847521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daddychilton/pseuds/daddychilton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taking place towards the end of episode four of Halt & Catch Fire with a few specific differences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coffee & Donuts

The coffee steamed as Gordon poured it into his mug. He’d just gotten back to Cardiff, and was refueling before another engineering session in the Kill Room. He thought Donna might be mad at him for ignoring her anger toward Joe, but he figured it’d blow over soon enough. Something about the man kept him from being angry with him.  


He took a sip of the coffee, burning the roof of his mouth and the tip of his tongue, and eyed a stale, leftover donut, then thought better of it. He’d have time to eat later.  


There was a scuffling sound behind him; when he turned around, he saw a battered Joe MacMillan staring at him. Joe’s black eye glared and the smeared blood under his probably-broken nose glimmered under the fluorescent light.  
“What the hell happened to you?”  


“Got careless. I fell,” Joe said. His voice was coarse, like he’d just woken up after a night of binge-drinking. Like he’d had a cough for the last six months.  


“You been to a hospital?”  


“No; just a couple of scratches. I’ll be fine.”  


“I’m pretty sure your nose is broken…” Gordon trailed off. Joe wasn’t in the mood for talk.  


Joe stared at Gordon with that deep, penetrating stare he used when he was sizing a guy up. The look he used to find a man’s weak spot. Gordon took another sip of coffee, but the heat growing in his belly had nothing to do with the drink. His face flushed, and he pushed his glasses further up on his nose - a nervous habit.  


The room was silent. No one else was in the building, that Gordon knew of. It was still early – around four a.m., he thought. They were alone. Even if Cameron was here, she’d be somewhere down below, in that hellhole of a basement.  


Joe’s eyes were still upon him even after he’d looked away. A drop of blood splattered onto his light blue shirt. Gordon took a napkin to blot it, but Joe’s hand stopped his in its tracks.  


Joe’s hands were large, with long fingers. He was a tall man, a big man, much bigger than Gordon was. His hand was rough, and its fingers traced Gordon’s palm like he was reading braille.  


The fire in Gordon’s belly flared, and he felt himself getting hard. He didn’t understand , but he didn’t want to. This wasn’t the time for understanding; this was a time for a release, and he realized this probably wasn’t the first time Joe’d fucked a man.  


Joe took his other hand and clasped it around Gordon’s jaw with force so strong it knocked his glasses clean off. They clattered to the counter, right next to the steaming mug of coffee. Joe mouth met Gordon’s in a fury, rough lips matching Gordon’s own soft ones. Then, there was nothing but a mash of tongues and teeth and lips. Low guttural sounds, like the growls of hungry wolves.  


“My eye,” Joe said, pulling his mouth away, “kiss it. Make it better.”  


Gordon’s hands took Joe’s head gently and pulled it down to his level, placing a soft kiss on his eye and an even softer one on his nose.  


“Better?” The word was barely audible. He’d only exhaled it.  


Joe had his own shirt off in seconds, the scars stark in the light. Gordon looked at them only for a second; he’d had his fill of Joe’s scars some night before, and he didn’t want his eyes to linger for too long—they were ugly and crude, and it made him feel a kind of pity he didn’t want to feel at this moment. Gordon’s fingers had become clumsy with the buttons and his tie seemed to be getting tighter instead of looser around his neck. Joe helped, and they were gone within seconds. There was a muffled “sorry” and then the hungry growls were back. Their pants were around their ankles; the belt buckles jangled like spurs.  


Gordon was bent over the counter when Joe thrust into him. A moan rushed through his lips like a river, each sound flowing easier and louder within its current. Joe was silent for the time being, but the faster he got, the faster the sounds formed around his lips; their moans were deep and rich. Blood spattered onto Gordon’s back. He felt it begin to run down, leaving red trails behind it. Somehow, this feeling of being covered in the thing that kept Joe alive made him cry out and grip the counter harder. The coffee was sloshing in its mug, the stale donuts sliding within their white cardboard box, until they came and Joe fell upon Gordon’s back, spent. Gordon’s belly was sticky – he didn’t know he’d had his hand around his dick until after, when he’d realized what they’d done. The room stank of sweat and sex and blood and coffee and was filled with heavy breathing.  


Joe pulled away from Gordon and saw the blood on his chest and Gordon’s back. He grabbed a couple of napkins and wiped himself off. He handed a few to Gordon and began to redress. Gordon toweled off his belly and back as best he could, though he knew a shower was the only thing that would really do the trick. He put his shirt on inside out at first, only realizing it when the buttons weren’t where they were supposed to be. There wasn’t another kiss. There wasn’t another word.  


“I’ll see you later, Gordon. Thanks for the eye medicine,” Joe said. Then, there it was – his winning, salesman-of-the-year smile.  
He grabbed what was left of Gordon’s coffee and left. Business would resume as usual.


End file.
